


Home Will Wait

by speakingwosound (sev313)



Series: Shades of Grey [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Olympics, Sochi Olympics, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/pseuds/speakingwosound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's because their bond wasn't active before; maybe because neither of them had cried out in such pain; maybe because Pat had never needed him, not really, not before.  But now, Sid can't think around it, the desperation, heartbreak, the need. For him. For <i>Sid</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Will Wait

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [ this picture](http://stainyourhands.tumblr.com/post/77719905182/sidney-crosby-consoles-usa-forward-patrick-kane), , a few months of wanting more Kaner/Sid fic in the universe, and all the Olympics withdrawal I’m going through today.

Sid doesn't feel it until the handshake line. Maybe it's because their bond wasn't active before; maybe because neither of them had cried out in such pain; maybe because Pat had never needed him, not really, not before. But now, Sid can't think around it, the desperation, heartbreak, the need. For him. For _Sid_. 

Sid's been needed before. Teams have needed him to score opportune goals or make good defensive plays. Taylor has needed him to be her brother and, at times, his parents have needed him to be their son. No one, however, has ever needed him like Pat needs him right now.

When Sid had heard about soul bonds in middle school, he’d always assumed that he wouldn’t have one. He’s bonded to hockey, so little room in his life for anything else. Then, when he’d met T.J. in school – and, later, Geno when he’d joined the Penguins – Sid had figured that, if he were to bond, it would be with someone he plays with. A linemate, maybe, or an assistant captain; someone he’s already attached to.

Pat Kane is a shock. Sid barely knows him. Jonny’s talked about him a lot in Sid’s earshot, in everyone’s earshot. And Sid’s played against him a few times; mostly, actually, with Team Canada, but once or twice with the Penguins. He’s good, Sid knows that, and he has heart, which everyone knows. But, that’s about all Sid knows.

When Sid comes out of the dressing room, showered, congratulated, and having survived the media scrum, Pat is there. He has his hands in his pockets, USA Hockey beanie pulled low over his eyes, one knee bent against the wall. He’s looking directly at Sid, as if he knew that Sid was coming. Which, Sid figures, he probably did.

“Hi,” he says, softly.

Sid glances behind him, just to make sure, and asks, even though he knows Pat isn’t, “You waiting for Jonny?”

“Ahh.” Pat suddenly looks unsure, and Sid feels a wave of regret pulse through him. He doesn’t know if it’s coming from Pat or from himself. Pat clears his throat, dropping his knee and standing straight. “No. This is a bad idea, I’m just gonna-” He takes a hand out of his pocket to point behind him and Sid steps forward, wrapping his fingers around Pat’s wrist to keep him there.

Sid loses himself instantaneously in Pat’s mind. He can't fight the pull of Pat's energy, his drive, his desire to win and unconscious ability to fill up every space he inhabits. And, right now, Pat is filling Sid's mind with _loss _and _not good enough_ and it's too much, more than too much.__

__Sid can't do this, not right now. He has a game to play, a gold medal game, and his teammates and his coach and the whole of Canada are relying on him to be in his right mind. The weight of their expectations are already on the edge of too much. And he thinks, maybe, probably, the addition of Pat's, too, might just tip him over._ _

__"Yeah, ahh, sorry, I can't-" Sid pulls his hand away, turns his eyes to the wall, ignores the lingering wisps of Pat's disappointment flickering at the back of his mind. "Sorry," he repeats, because his mother raised him with manners and because he knows what this is doing to Pat, knows implicitly, and yet can't stop himself from doing it._ _

__He walks away. He doesn't need to turn back to know exactly what Pat looks like._ _

__***_ _

__Sid watches the bronze medal game from his room in the Village with the rest of Team Canada. Jonny sits next to him, their shoulders pressed together, and after Pat's first missed penalty shot, Jonny squeezes his fingers painfully into Sid's knee._ _

__After the second missed penalty shot, Jonny gets up, walks out of the room without a word. Sid glances around, catches Sharpie's eye, but Sharpie just looks sad, regretful, shrugs his shoulders._ _

__Sid gets up, scoots around his teammates and wanders the halls until he finds Jonny outside, leaning against their building and staring out, across the parking lot, at the backside of Bolshoy Arena._ _

__"Sid," he says, surprised, or, as surprised as Jonny ever is._ _

__Sid joins him against the side of the building. He can feel, faintly, the tug of Pat in the back of his mind. Frustration, and a good touch of self-recrimination. Sid blocks him out. "Hey."_ _

__"Should I ask what the score is?"_ _

__Sid studies the side of Jonny's face, the set of his jaw, the frown lines at the corner of his mouth. Finland's scored twice since Jonny's been out here. "No," Sid decides._ _

__Jonny sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "I wanted to beat them, you know? For Canada. But, not like this. This is going to destroy him."_ _

__Sid flinches. This game isn't going to destroy Pat, because Sid's already taken care of that. And all the hatred Pat's gonna get after this game - from fans, from media, from USA Hockey - that's all on Sid. It's his fault._ _

__"He lost his grandfather," Jonny continues, as if he can't stop himself. As if, somehow, he senses that Sid should know this. Sid shivers, but Jonny ignores him. "Right before we left. He missed our last game, for the funeral."_ _

__"They were close?" Sid asks, because, despite himself, he wants to know._ _

__"Yeah. Very."_ _

__"Crappy couple of weeks." It's such a terrible understatement, Sid can feel it in the back of his mind, but Jonny seems to take it at face value, nodding his agreement._ _

__"Yeah," Jonny laughs ruefully, shaking his head and pushing off the wall. "I'm gonna go back in, watch the last few minutes. Least I can do."_ _

__Sid reaches out, instinctively, wrapping his fingers around Jonny's wrist just as he had Pat's yesterday. Sid doesn't feel anything. His head is quiet. "It's my fault," Sid says, softly, nodding at Bolshoy._ _

__Jonny frowns. "Sid, I know you have a lot on your shoulders, but this one, it's not your fault, eh?"_ _

__Sid shrugs, letting go. "Sure."_ _

__***_ _

__The Penguins arrive in Chicago a few days before their Stadium Series game at Soldier Field. Even with the Olympic break, they make time in the schedule for an outside practice, an alumni game, and a lot of press. Sid only got back from Sochi a few days before, and he's still feeling jet-lagged and bit hung over, both from the celebratory alcohol and the bond tugging at the back of his mind._ _

__He had hoped that the bond would go away, once they both resettled into their routines, cities apart, but it didn't. It isn't strong, and he can barely make out Pat's emotions anymore, but it's there. Insistent, needy, a little desperate. Sid wonders what he feels like in Pat's mind._ _

__The Penguins have the later practice at Soldier Field on Friday morning. Sid's walking in, cold even in his gloves and hat, when he's slammed up against the wall, an arm poised at his throat._ _

__"Jonny?" Sid gasps as he struggles for breath and, blinking, recognizes Jonny's piercing eyes glaring at him, his pupils blown._ _

__"That's what you meant when you said 'it's my fault'? You asshole."_ _

__Jonny's arm presses tighter and Sid's mouth falls open as he gasps for another breath. "He told you?"_ _

__"Fuck you," Jonny spits. Sid flinches away. "And yes, I forced it out of him. With alcohol. He didn't betray you, though you'd fucking deserve it."_ _

__"I would," Sid agrees. "I'm sorry."_ _

__"I'm not- Jesus, Sid, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."_ _

__Sid eyes Jonny's arm. "You seem like the smart choice at the moment."_ _

__Jonny glares at him, but he does drop his arm. He doesn't step further away, though, and he doesn't look less angry. Sid doesn't blame him._ _

__"What were you thinking? You knew what he was going through. I told you. And you must have felt it," Jonny taps at the side of Sid's head, an inch left of where Pat tugs. It's proof enough that Jonny's never had a bond of his own._ _

__"It's not so simple." It's really not. Sid's been over it, a thousand times, and a thousand times more, over the past week. He's never had to explain himself out loud, though, and, as he does, he knows how terrible he's sounding. "There was a lot going on, I had the team to think about."_ _

__"Fuck the team."_ _

__Sid stares at him. Jonny sighs, flexing his shoulders and rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I don't mean that," he admits. "Just- that's a weak excuse. There were so many of us there, Sid, if you needed help you should have asked."_ _

__"It wasn't-" Sid sighs. "I accepted the Captaincy, you know? It was on me."_ _

__Jonny shrugs. "And after? After we won and celebrated, knowing full well how much pain he was in?"_ _

__Sid feels that like a pinch in his mind, harsh and raw, in the same spot he's been chaffing against all week. "Bonds don't just happen because you've met your soulmate. It's not that easy, you have to work at it, focus on it, and, sometimes, it just doesn't work out." Sid's mother had been bonded, before she met his dad. Her bond didn’t work, her unbonded relationship with his dad does. It’s more first hand experience with failed bonds than Sid can deal with._ _

__"You're saying no because you'd have to _work at it_?" Jonny looks incredulous and, yeah, when said like that, it sounds ridiculous._ _

__"I'm saying no," Sid corrects, "because we both have hockey to worry about and our bond wouldn't work out anyway."_ _

__"That's-" Jonny splutters, and Sid's never seen him like this, angry and defensive and resigned, all directed at Sid._ _

__"Sid, Dan want-" Geno stops, turning the corner and seeing them. "Sorry, I not mean interrupt."_ _

__"No, no," Sid calls, slipping under Jonny's arms and joining Geno. He feels like he's cheating, using Geno to get out of this, but he doesn't know what else he can say to make Jonny understand. "We were just finishing."_ _

__Geno looks questioningly at Jonny, who's shoulders slump in defeat, but then just shrugs, following Sid dutifully._ _

__***_ _

__"What that about? With Toews?" Geno asks later that evening, when the team's at Morton's, eating steak and drinking wine that is way too expensive for their pallets._ _

__"Nothing," Sid says, immediately. But he pauses. Pat told Jonny, and Sid could really use some advice on this. "It was- I kind of found my soulmate. In Sochi."_ _

__"Sid, you not tell," Geno says, all wonder and excitement, at the same time as Tanger, sitting across from them, wolf whistles._ _

__Tanger grins. "Good for you. I always figured you were bonded to hockey."_ _

__"Yeah, me too," Sid grumbles, sinking into his chair. "And I didn't tell you because we're not going to bond."_ _

__Both Geno and Tanger look aghast, which Sid thinks is uncalled for. It's not exactly common to reject your soulmate, but it happens. "Stop looking at me like that," he snaps, then feels bad about it when Geno's face drops and Tanger looks guilty._ _

__"Sorry, just," Tanger looks pained. "That's a big decision."_ _

__Sid shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, it wouldn't work, so-"_ _

__"Who is it? Is it Russian girl?" Geno asks, looking excited again. "Is it language problem? I can help."_ _

__Sid shakes his head. "It's not a language problem. It's a-" He searches for the word. "We're just very different people."_ _

__"You don't really know that until you try. Look at Cat and I."_ _

__"You two are perfect for each other," Sid protests, quickly, because he's seen them together for years and they're the epitome of the perfect bond._ _

__Tanger smiles, a little wistfully. "Now, maybe, yeah, but when we first met we couldn't have been more opposite. It took a lot of years, a lot of work, but now, you see what we have."_ _

__Maybe, Sid thinks, but, no, he and Pat live in different cities, play for different teams, and have no intentions of playing anywhere else. Or, at least, Sid doesn't and he assumes Pat doesn't, either. They don't have time to make it work._ _

__***_ _

__The Hawks are in Pittsburgh at the end of March. If Sid hadn't been so busy blocking Pat out over the last few weeks, he wouldn't be so surprised when he opens his door the night before the game to see Pat standing there._ _

__"Ahh, hi," Sid says. It hits him, all over again, how imposing Pat is in his mind. "Come in, I guess."_ _

__Pat follows Sid into the living room, then stands awkwardly at the side of the couch, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. "Sorry to drop in on you like this."_ _

__"It's fine," Sid shrugs. "How have you been?"_ _

__"Good." Pat looks at him from under his eyelashes. "Fine." He looks better, more color, less dark circles under his eyes. He almost looks like the old Pat Kane, if Sid didn't know better, if Pat’s mind wasn’t still dark and turbulent at the back of Sid’s._ _

__"Good, good, I'm, ahh, I'm glad." _I'm glad I didn't fuck you up entirely_ , Sid doesn't say, but Pat must get at least some of it through the bond, because he rubs the back of his neck ruefully._ _

__"I just came here to tell you that there are no hurt feelings. I get it, why you don't want to bond with me."_ _

__"It's not you," Sid says, quickly. He never thought they'd actually talk about this, and it surprises him, a lot, that Pat's the mature one between them. But, he feels like, now that Pat’s here, he should at least try and explain. "I don't like bonds. In general."_ _

__"Okay," Pat agrees. "I get it. And I won't push you. I know I can get a little needy, sometimes.” He points to Sid's head. "I'll try not to do that."_ _

__"It's okay. I don't mind," which is a total lie. Every time Pat's mind reaches out, Sid feels sad and guilty all over again._ _

__Pat shrugs, the corner of his mouth turning up. "I know when you're lying, Sid. Our bond isn't strong, but-"_ _

__"It's there," Sid finishes. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I'm an ass at this."_ _

__"Yeah," Pat agrees, but there's nothing harsh in his words. It makes Sid feel sad. "So, um, I'm gonna go. Rest up, so we can beat your ass tomorrow."_ _

__"Not gonna happen." Sid chirps back, on principle._ _

__***_ _

__Seeing Pat has re-awoken the part of Sid's mind that he had managed to quite over the past few weeks. During the game the next evening, Sid finds himself following Pat on the ice, knowing exactly where Pat wants to pass and, on more than one shift, passing directly to Pat's stick himself. It's a disaster, and Sid is a shift and another bad play away from pulling himself from the game, when Pat stops him, his glove on the bare skin of Sid's forearm._ _

__Sid's mind comes alive, full of excitement and love for the game and a rueful giddiness, in place of the despair from a month ago. Pat offers him an apologetic smile. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I guess, yesterday awakened it again. So, that conversation didn't really work." He gives a self-deprecating little laugh._ _

__"Don't worry about it," Sid assures him. Pat should not be the one apologizing. This is Sid's fault and Sid will take responsibility for it._ _

__When Sid sits back on the bench, Geno eyes him warily. "Pat Kane. He your soulmate?"_ _

__"Uhh," Sid glances out at the ice, where Pat's making a beautiful, chipped pass to Jonny Toews. "Yeah," Sid breathes out. "He is."_ _

__"Huh." Geno breathes, watching Pat until his shift ends. Flower covers the puck for a whistle and, as Geno's getting up to climb over the boards, he taps Sid's knee with his stick. "You and Pat Kane, you not so different."_ _

__No, Sid admits to himself, no, we're not._ _

__***_ _

__The Pens make an early exit from the playoffs. They take the Leafs to seven games in the first round, but lose on a two-goal night from Phil Kessel and a number of unforgivable defensive breakdowns in their own end. The handshake line is bitter, and Sid feels much the way about his season as he did in 2010, with a gold medal but nothing else to show for his efforts._ _

__Well, nothing to show except the bond in the back of his mind. Pat's still in the playoffs. The Hawks beat the Coyotes in five games and are waiting out the San Jose-Canucks series for their second round opponent._ _

__Sid watches each of their games, DVR-ed, so that he can rewind and watch their breakouts over and over again. He sends Pat tips, e-mailing them to the address he begged off of Jonny about a month ago. Jonny had been tentatively pleased, even when Sid told him, at least five times, that this is about hockey. It has nothing to do with his soul bond, or lack there of._ _

__He gets a text, right around the beginning of the Hawks' second round series, from an unknown number._ _

___power play idea worked 4 shizzle thanx_ _ _

__Then, _stole ur # from jonny hope is ok_._ _

__Sid stares at his phone for a long moment, then saves the number under Kane, P._ _

__He watches the next Hawks game with his phone in his lap, texting his observations rather than collecting them all in one long email. It feels more personal this way, which is stupid, considering that Pat _is in his head_._ _

__Geno invites Sid over to watch the next game with a bunch of the guys. Sid almost says no, he's taken to watching these games from Pat's perspective, fitting himself into the little corner of Pat's brain where Sid belongs, and playing, precariously through him. He hasn't seen the guys much, though, lately, and pretty soon they'll all be heading their separate ways for the summer, so Sid reluctantly agrees._ _

__It's somehow different, watching Pat in a group. He has a spectacular night - 2 goals, an assist, a fabulous back check to stop a Marleau breakaway - and when Geno cheers, he catches Sid's eyes and Sid feels warm and full of pride, as if he has any right to share in Pat's triumphs._ _

__That night, as Sid lies awake, replaying Pat's second goal on the TV in his bedroom, he tests Pat's small space in his mind. As Sid pushes on it, it comes to life, brightening and sending pleased sparks throughout Sid's mind._ _

__Sid's phone rings._ _

__"What was that?" Pat asks, sounding mostly sober but pretty tired._ _

__"Sorry," Sid apologizes. "I just wondered what would happen."_ _

__"Jesus," Pat laughs. "Of course you'd choose tonight. I played my ass off and all I want to do is go to sleep but now I'm fucking hard."_ _

__Sid ignores the last part. "We watched tonight, me and the guys. Geno said to congratulate you on the second goal."_ _

__"Geno did, huh?"_ _

__Sid's already congratulated him, via text, so Pat's just needling him. But Sid's too nice a guy, and he honestly thinks Pat's too great a player, not to rise to the bait. "You played great tonight. And, Pat, that back check on Marleau," Sid's voice goes embarrassingly breathless. He can feel Pat light up in his mind again._ _

__"I can feel that," Pat exclaims, gleefully._ _

__"Ahh-" Sid says, embarrassed, but Pat just scoffs._ _

__"I already told you I was hard, what's there to be embarrassed about?"_ _

__Sid should be worried that they're able to pick out specific emotions, now. That seems like progress on a bond that they still haven't agreed to, but Pat's arousal is bright and clear in his mind, feeding down Sid's spine to his dick, and then, he assumes to the place he inhabits in Pat's brain._ _

__"Yeah," Pat breathes. "I've read about the feedback loop, I just haven't ever- Fuck." Sid can hear the rustle of clothing and feel the spark of pleasure when Pat gets his hand on his dick._ _

__"Are you jerking off?" Sid feels like they should talk about something like that before it happens._ _

__"Yeah, ahh, I thought that's what we were doing," Pat sounds confused. His hand stops._ _

__"No, I-" Sid swallows. "We were talking. Why would you assume that?"_ _

__"You're the one who poked at _me_."_ _

__"I didn't know this is what would happen," Sid protests. Which is pointless, because he's stupidly hard, and sitting on the phone in silence, listening to Pat's heavy breathing, itching to touch himself, to touch Pat, is just making it worse._ _

__Pat let's out a heavy laugh. "Can we jerk off now? Cause I really am tired.”_ _

__Sid pauses, for a long, heavy moment, but the thing about the bond is that he can’t exactly deny how much he wants it. He reaches down, slips his hand past the waistband of his boxers, and wraps his fingers around the base of his dick._ _

__“Yes,” Pat breathes, Sid’s mind flaring instantly to life. “Thank god.”_ _

__They don’t have to talk after that. Sid can hear the rustle of clothing, the sounds of skin on skin, slick and fast, and the low, rapid stutter of Pat’s breathing. More importantly, though, he can feel it through the bond, how Pat likes to touch himself in short, quick strokes, his thumb twisting at the head. He can feel how much Pat likes what Sid likes, flaring with arousal each time Sid hits that spot on the underside of his dick that makes his own knees weak._ _

__Pat’s hand slows to meet Sid’s rhythm and Sid can’t tell anymore where his hand ends and Pat’s begins, where his and Pat’s dicks are separate, unique, aroused entities. It doesn’t matter though, as he feels his balls tighten at the same time as Pat’s and then they’re both coming, way too quickly, and Sid is panting and crying out Pat’s name, aloud and in his head._ _

__“Shit, that was good,” Pat murmurs, shifting on his bed to wipe his hand clean._ _

__“Yeah,” Sid agrees, curling on his side and wishing, inexplicably, that Pat was there._ _

__“I could be,” Pat says, quietly, slowly, unsure, picking up on Sid’s emotions. Sid hates it._ _

__“You have another game tomorrow. You should get some rest.”_ _

__“Yeah, sure.”_ _

__In Sid’s mind, Pat goes back to his small, faint glow of life. Sid misses him._ _

__***_ _

__Pat is on his doorstep twenty-four hours after the Hawks lose to the Ducks in the Western Conference Final. “I would have been here earlier,” he says, pushing in, “but I had to do media and console Jonny and say goodbye to my parents.”_ _

__“Ahh,” Sid says, because he probably should have known that’s where he rates right now. Below Pat’s parents and Jonny, but above most everything else._ _

__Pat grins, incredulous and flushed. “Are you jealous?”_ _

__“No.” Sid doesn’t do jealousy._ _

__Pat shakes his head. He looks good, for having ended his season just a day before. Thank god he’s already shaved off his attempt at a beard and cut the stupid playoff mullet. “If you’d just agree to bond with me, you’d move up a couple notches.”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah,” Sid agrees, dismissively, but he reaches out and it’s the first time they’ve touched, really touched, since March. It’s electric, so much more so than a few months ago. Sid assumes it’s because they’ve been opening their bond, slowly, gently, carefully, since then._ _

__“Oh, Sid,” Pat murmurs, taking an abortive step forward, and it’s so much, it’s everything. Sid wraps his arms tightly around Pat’s lower back, leading him into the living room. They sink onto the couch, because Sid feels it, too, the overwhelming sense of _yes_ and _mine_ and _belonging_ and, fuck, Geno was right. He and Pat are the same, in the ways that matter, at least. Hockey. Family. Loyalty. Dedication. The other stuff will come later._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Sid tries to say, as Pat nuzzles at Sid’s jaw. “I should have- In Sochi-” Sid is such an idiot._ _

__“It’s okay.” Pat lifts his head to look into Sid’s eyes. Pat’s are blue and so expressive, Sid doesn’t need the bond to know what he’s feeling. “I understand. You were being an asshole, but I understood.”_ _

__Of course he did. It’s what brought them together, after all. Pat understands, probably better than anyone, what it feels like to be crushed under the weight of expectation and the hopes of a country, a city, an organization. “Still,” Sid pushes, because Pat has to hear how important he is, how good he is, how much people love him even if it comes out, sometimes, as disappointment. “I was awful, and you didn’t deserve it.”_ _

__Pat freezes, watching Sid for a long, quiet moment, a flurry of emotion swirling through Sid’s head. Sid wants to kick all the people who have ever made Pat believe that he’s less, that he doesn’t deserve everything that Sid can give him. Then Pat leans forward, pushing all the other thoughts to the back of both their minds, filling them both with nothing but light and arousal, as he whispers against Sid’s mouth, “I know how you can make it up to me.”_ _

__Sid’s on board with that. Sid’s _so_ on board with that. He pushes Pat off the couch and leads him to the bedroom, reaching for his hand, his hips, any skin he can reach, because he doesn’t want to loose this feeling. His head feels warm and full and settled for the first time since the concussions, maybe for the first time in his life._ _

__Sid undresses Pat quickly, piling his Hawks gear gingerly on the floor besides his Pens stuff. It’s the first time he’s seen Pat naked, and he’s small, wiry, full of long muscle where Sid’s compact, and Sid wants to touch him everywhere, with his hands, his mouth, whatever he can find. Pat pulls him down onto the bed, stretches out so their bodies are touching everywhere, and Sid’s mind short-circuits, because this is everything and too much and not enough all at the same time._ _

__“Sid,” Pat whimpers, pushing up, his hips locking against Sid’s and their dicks dragging together. Both their minds spark, and Sid drops his head to kiss Pat, long and slow and full of so many promises for more of this. For the rest of their lives, if he has anything to say about it._ _

__“Yes,” Pat whispers, arching again, and digging his fingers into Sid’s ass. “Yes, as long as you’ll have me, yes.”_ _

__“Not going anywhere,” Sid promises, reaching between their bodies and tugging Pat’s erection once, twice, gathering precome from both their dicks before dropping his fingers. He pauses, “Can I?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Pat agrees, pushing his ass into Sid’s fingers, and then Sid’s slipping inside, to his knuckle. He’s only done this once or twice before, in Juniors, when the stakes were so much lower. To Sid’s relief, though, Pat can feel his hesitation, and he reaches down to adjust Sid’s angle. “Yeah, there, that’s good. Just- faster.”_ _

__Sid complies. He’s always been good at doing what he’s told, and if he concentrates, just hard enough, he can separate their minds enough to know what does and does not feel good for Pat. He slips in a second finger, crooking them and Pat arches off the bed, his mind going red and orange and Sid gasps, thrusting his dick against Pat’s hip. “Shit,” he breathes._ _

__“Unf,” Pat agrees, twisting his hips so Sid can hit his prostate again, and Sid does, adding a third finger and a lot more lube, and brushing, unrelenting, against it, until Pat reaches between them to grasp at the base of his dick. “Stop, stop.”_ _

__“Sorry, sorry,” Sid apologizes, pulling his fingers out with an uncomfortable speed and trying to move away, until Pat grabs for his hips._ _

__“No, no, just, more. Now, ehh?”_ _

__Sid laughs. “Don’t ever, ever say that again.”_ _

__Pat rolls his eyes. “Too much time in your head.” Which is stupid, because they don’t actually hear each other in their minds, but Sid figures he feels as Canadian as he sounds and, yeah, the idea that, eventually, Pat will start picking up some of his mannerisms is pretty fucking great._ _

__“Sid,” Pat whines, and Sid jerks._ _

__“Right, sorry, I just need- bedside table.” He reaches over for a condom, and Pat nods._ _

__“We’re getting tested tomorrow and, then, no more, yeah?” Sid knows what Pat’s asking. He’s asking for monogamy and loyalty and he looks so scared and vulnerable._ _

__It’s the least Sid can agree to, the least he, himself, will ask for, and he reaches down, making promises with kisses as he opens the packet and rolls the condom onto his erection. Pat hums approvingly, spreading his knees and Sid holds himself steady as he pushes in, slowly, gently, feeling Pat open, so hot and strong and tight, for his body._ _

__It just _feels_. Sid will never be able to describe what it’s like being in Pat, body and mind, connected and inseparable in these moments when it is just them, together, completely. Sid moves, without even thinking, his stomach brushing against Pat’s erection, his dick brushing against Pat’s prostate, and they’re both shaking and sweating and moaning. _ _

__Pat reaches for Sid’s shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss and the angle pushes Sid deeper. He braces his knees, more leverage as he moves faster, harder, everything Pat wants and needs, and then Pat is coming, spilling long and hard between them and Sid is right there with him, shaking into his body and coming with long, stuttered aftershocks for long moments._ _

__Pat is pretty out of it, glassy-eyes and loose limbs, as Sid pulls out, ties off the condom, and grabs a washcloth. “Huh?” Pat asks as Sid pushes his knees apart to clean between his thighs. Pat shivers and Sid finishes quickly, throwing the washcloth back into the bathroom before curling around Pat and pulling the blankets over them both._ _

__***_ _

__Geno wakes them the next morning with coffee and Jeffrey. “Sid,” he calls up the stairs. “Is late. You here?”_ _

__Sid is mostly still asleep, buried in the covers between Pat and Sam, who had joined them at some point during the night. “Huh?” he asks, when Pat rolls over to look at him._ _

__Pat laughs. “Geno’s downstairs. Does he have a key?”_ _

__“Uhh,” Sid’s having a hard time focusing. His mind feels bright and alive, his body a little sore. “Unfortunately.”_ _

__“Should I tell him to go away?”_ _

__That’s a terrible idea. If Geno sees Pat like this, naked and covered in Sid’s bruises- “No, I’ll go, just,” he pulls Pat in for a long, wet kiss. Pat rubs his morning erection against Sid’s hip and Sid makes a disgruntled noise. “Later, just, go take a shower. Before he sees you like this.”_ _

__Pat looks hurt, for just a moment, until he must catch Sid’s meaning, and then he’s laughing, unburying himself from the blankets and Sid can’t help but watch him walk away, hips a little angled, to the bathroom. Sid strokes himself, loose-fisted, until Pat disappears into the other room and Sid forces himself up and into a pair of sweatpants and his oldest, rattiest Pens hoodie._ _

__“Hey,” he says as he comes into the kitchen, Sam pushing around him to greet Jeffrey. “What are you doing here so early?”_ _

__Geno eyes him up and down. “Is noon.”_ _

__“Is it?” Sid asks, surprised, glancing around to check the clock on the kitchen television. “Huh.”_ _

__“We have tee time. At 2.”_ _

__“Oh. Right.”_ _

__“Sid forget?”_ _

__“Ahh, yeah.” Sid rubs the back of his neck. He can _feel_ Pat singing in the shower upstairs. “I hate to do this, but, can I take a rain check? Just for today. I’m sure Paulie or Nealer will take my spot.”_ _

__“Sure,” Geno says, slowly, then glances up the stairs. Sid doesn’t know if the sounds of the shower are as loud to Geno as they are to him, but they must be because Geno’s eyes widen. “You pick up? Should have said. Am impressed.”_ _

__“No,” Sid says, way too quickly, way too defensively. “No,” he continues, at a much more normal tone and speed. “It’s- It’s Pat. He came here, last night.”_ _

__“From Chicago?”_ _

__“Yes.” Sid’s eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t know why that’s important. “Why?”_ _

__“Is long way. For non-soulmate.”_ _

__Sid flushes. He knows that Geno’s been silently calling him an asshole for months now for how Sid’s handled this whole thing. It’s been hard, dealing with his best friend’s disapproval. “Yeah, we, ahh, talked things over.” Mostly. “We’re gonna give it a try.”_ _

__“Sid?” Geno splits into the largest grin Sid has seen in ages._ _

__“Yeah,” Sid admits, nodding, and flushing even redder when Geno pulls him into one of the large, tight bear hugs that Sid hadn’t realized he’s been missing so much._ _

__Even through the hug, though, he knows the moment Pat joins them at the bottom of the stairs._ _

__“Do I need to be jealous?” Pat’s tone is teasing, but Sid can feel, just at the back of his mind, the little uncertainty Pat seems to carry with him all the time. Sid pulls away from Geno and turns to look at Pat, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants with Sid’s ‘87’ clearly emblazoned on the thigh and a Team Canada hoodie with ‘Crosby’ across the back. Sid’s mouth goes dry and Pat smirks at him._ _

__“Kane,” Geno steps forward, gathering Pat into an even bigger hug than the one he gave Sid. Sid feels a little betrayed, also a little scared at the prospect of what Pat and Geno could do if they banded together, on and off the ice. “Sid finally take head out of ass.”_ _

__Pat laughs. “Something like that.”_ _

__“If he ever idiot, you come to me.” Geno is so serious about it, and Pat looks so taken aback, that Sid can’t even be angry about it._ _

__“Breakfast?” He asks, looking to change the subject. He reaches for the bag that Geno brought, making sure to brush his fingers over Pat’s shoulder as he reaches past him, when Geno looks stricken._ _

__“I not know Pat here. I only bring for two.”_ _

__Pat shrugs, glancing over Sid’s shoulder into the bag. “That’s okay, I don’t really have a sweet tooth, anyway.” Sid looks aghast, but Geno just pats his shoulder._ _

__“All more for Sid, no? You want omelet? I make. They good.”_ _

__Sid nods, already halfway through his first bite of chocolate croissant. “They really are,” he says, mouth full, and Pat laughs, leaning over to press his lips to Sid’s, licking away a little remnant of chocolate and not caring that Geno’s there. Sid can’t believe he waited this long to have this._ _

__***_ _

__Maintaining their bond is exactly as hard as Sid thought it would be, and yet the easiest thing in the world. By the time the season starts in October, Sid’s settled into it, so that he can skate without feeling Pat on the ice, or in his kitchen, or wherever he is when Sid’s trying to play. He’s getting used to Pat being there, in his mind, in his life, in his apartment and his city._ _

__In June, Sid visits Pat in Chicago, and Jonny gives him an ultimatum that pretty much goes,_ _

__“You hurt him and I’ll make sure you never play for Team Canada again.”_ _

__Sid’s not sure that Jonny actually has that power, but he understands the sentiment. “I won’t. I’m in this now, Jonny, I promise.”_ _

__Jonny stares at him, for a long, tense, careful moment, before he nods, claps Sid on the back, and returns to his workout. Sid thinks he should be annoyed that all of their friends seem to be siding with Pat, but after the way Sid acted all last year, he can’t be anything but glad that Pat has these kinds of people around him._ _

__They spend half the summer in Nova Scotia, practicing with Taylor and meeting Sid’s extended family. They spend numerous nights out on the fishing boat, Sid catching trout and Pat dozing at his side, and have sex under the open sky._ _

__The other half they spend at Pat’s house on Lake Erie. Sid takes instantly to Buffalo’s blue-collar charm, the evenings spent drinking beer and BBQ-ing in Pat’s backyard with his sisters and high school buddies. They play pick-up games that are harder than half of the Pens’ practices, and fall into bed together at night, sore and exhausted and delirious with summer and family and their bond._ _

__They part when the season begins, and Sid never quite gets used to the gentle ache at the back of his mind that never goes away, no matter how many texts and Skype sessions they share and how much phone sex they have. He finds himself counting down to games in Chicago or strings of days off when Pat can visit Pittsburgh._ _

__They almost miss the All-Star Game in Columbus. Would have, if Jonny and Geno hadn’t joined forces to bang on their door and tell them, in no uncertain terms, that All-Star Games are more important than sex. “Shows what they know,” Pat grumbles, but he kisses Sid, dirty and wet and full of promises for later, and they make it onto the ice just in time._ _

__***_ _

__It takes six years, another concussion for Sid, an almost-career ending knee injury for Pat, and the prospect of adopting a little girl before Pat asks for the trade to Pittsburgh. Sid knows that Pat feels awful about it, his mind dark purples and blues and greens in the back of Sid’s, as he takes the stage for the press conference. Sid stands off to the side, shoulder to shoulder with Jonny, twisting his wedding wing around his finger as he shuffles his feet and waits for this to be over._ _

__“I want to thank the Blackhawks organization for showing their support for me for so many years. Rocky Wirtz, John McDonough, Stan, Scotty, Coach Q, Jonny – you made my time with the Chicago Blackhawks the best of my life. This is an amazing organization, an amazing team, an incredible city. I started my career in this town, I went through some hard years here, too, and then the best._ _

__“It’s with a heavy heart that I stand here today to announce that I will not be rejoining the Blackhawks next season. This has been the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but it’s the best thing for my family right now.” He glances to the side, catches Sid’s eye. Sid nods at him, pushing as much support and love and affection into Pat’s mind as he can. Pat swallows. “I trust that Pittsburgh will be good to me, but I’ll never forget the years I’ve spent here. Thank you Chicago.”_ _

__Pat’s already crying, tears wet and heavy in the corners of his eyes, when he steps off the stage and into Sid’s chest, Jonny’s hand coming up to rub heavy, slow circles across his back._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Pat says, to Jonny, for probably the hundredth time since March, when the paperwork for the adoption had came through the same week Sid had gone out with his latest concussion, and Pat had decided that, as much as he loves Chicago, he just can’t be away anymore. Sid had offered, not even sure how much longer he’ll be able to play. But as important as Pat is for the Hawks, Sid’s the face of the Penguins, their Captain, and someday, probably, will share ownership responsibilities with Mario. Sid feels awful about how relieved he had been when Pat had insisted that it should be him._ _

__“I understand,” Jonny says, also for the hundredth time. Sid had encouraged Pat to go to Jonny first, so that Jonny could stand next to him when he went to Rocky and Stan and Coach Q, to ask for the trade that would mark his career forever. “Family’s important. Chicago will forgive you,” Jonny insists._ _

__Sid feels the flicker of disbelief from Pat, even though he can’t see the glare Pat must be sending Jonny’s way. “Eventually,” Jonny amends. “If Edmonton and LA could forgive Gretzky, Chicago will forgive you.”_ _

__Pat snorts into Sid’s shoulder, and Sid laughs, pressing a kiss behind Pat’s ear._ _

__***_ _

__Pittsburgh accepts Pat with open arms. Especially when he slots in on Sid’s wing as if he belongs there. Which, Sid guesses, he does. For the first time, Sid is able to open his mind when he’s on the ice, their bond a privilege rather than a detriment, and Pat’s energy, his love for the game, his dedication and fearlessness never cease to amaze Sid, even a couple of months into the season._ _

__The Pens play their first game in Chicago in December. Pat’s had it circled on the calendar since the schedule was released last July. He’s nervous, fidgety, not sleeping very well for the week leading up to it, and Dan is pretty close to knocking him off Sid’s wing and down to the third line. Pat only settles when Donna Kane agrees to come on their short mid-West road trip and bring Emma with her._ _

__Pat shouldn’t have worried. The Hawks put together a beautiful package and play it during a TV time-out in the second period. He stands on the ice, chin on the end of his stick, eyes glued to the jumbotron and the standing ovation from the fans, and Sid has probably never been more proud of him. When it’s over, he taps Pat’s ass with his stick, mouths “love you,” and Pat grins back._ _

__After the game, they pick Emma up from Donna and take her over to the Sharp’s. Emma’s still only nine months old, over tired and off-put by her first road trip, but the Sharp’s pull out some of Sadie’s old baby toys and they leave her in a pen in the corner of the living room. Sid can’t believe that Sadie is almost seven now, Maddie almost nine. He remembers Pat talking about the Sharp girls when they were babies, lying awake late into the night and dreaming of the time when he and Sid could have one of their own._ _

__“Yeah, we picked her up in Beijing in June. It was hot as Hades,” Pat’s saying to an enraptured Andrew Shaw, still besotted at twenty-eight, with eight years of NHL experience under his belt. Sid would laugh, if he wasn’t a little besotted himself._ _

__“Why’d you choose China?” Seabs asks, sounding actually interested, and Sid gives Duncs a sharp look._ _

__“Yeah,” Duncs shrugs, dropping his voice so that only Sid can hear. “Seabs and I have been talking about adopting for a while now. Just don’t know how or when.”_ _

__“Best thing I ever did,” Sid tells him, truthfully. “Well, except for Pat, of course.”_ _

__“Hmm,” Duncs looks thoughtful and, just as Pat’s regaling them with the whole story of their trip to China, Emma starts to cry. Sid’s halfway out of his seat when he feels Pat’s hand on his knee._ _

__“I’ve got her.” Sid can’t help but watch as Pat squats down, pulling Emma out of the playpen and bouncing her gently in his arms. It’s her hungry cry, Sid can tell, and he grabs a bottle and some formula from his bag before excusing himself and heading into the kitchen._ _

__The milk’s just warming up when Pat enters, still bouncing Emma and whispering to her in the stupid baby voice he insists on using with all their nieces and nephews. Sid grins, offering Pat the bottle and Pat takes it, slipping it into Emma’s mouth before leaning over her to kiss Sid._ _

__“Regrets?” He asks, his mind flashing yellow and nervous in the back of Sid’s._ _

__“Nah,” Sid runs his index finger along Emma’s cheek. He doesn’t know how Pat can still get into these fits of insecurity, this far along, but he never has a problem reassuring him. “Not a thing. You?”_ _

__Pat shakes his head. “Hell no.” He leans forward again and Sid grants him a kiss. In the back of Sid’s mind, Pat flashes warm and content and home._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you wanna chat about these two idiots, hockey, Sochi, the Olympics, or anything else, please comment here or find me on [tumblr](http://stainyourhands.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
